Lacuna
by storytellerslie
Summary: My entry for the Black Balloon Contest - To many Rosalie Hale is the most beautiful thing they have ever seen, will Edward give into that temptation? Will it be worth the cost, even if the price is everything he knows, everything he is?


**The Black Balloon Contest**

**Title: **_**Lacuna**_

**Your pen name:**_** storytellerslie**_

**Characters: **_**Edward / Rosalie**_

**Disclaimer: **_**I own nothing. Seriously, not even the laptop I'm writing this on, it's my boyfriend's and apparently he wants it back. SM owns Twilight.**_

Her thoughts hit me before her screams.

It was as if my mind had collided with a wall of pure anguish and terror, the intensity causing me to falter as I ran, stumbling for the first time in my immortality.

Soon enough the physical manifestations became apparent as well. As her shrieks ripped through the air with a ferocity I had seldom heard before, her scent drifted languidly toward me.

Rich and tart, it brought to mind the sticky sweetness of cherries. The kind of sweetness that would be delectable at first, but would quickly become overpowering. Yet it was tinged with an unmistakable sourness. Something I recognised as the bitter tang of human sweat, laced with unadulterated fear.

Regrettably, my immediate thought was that one of them had slipped. An irrational surge of satisfaction filled me. I was usually the weak link in our family. The idea that one of them could be responsible for the sounds resonating from within our home, filled me with a perverse pleasure.

The pleasure was instantly replaced by guilt. Carlisle and Esme were unfailingly compassionate. The notion that either one could condone or bear this level of suffering was unthinkable. If it could have been avoided, they would have done everything in their power to prevent it.

The barrage of thoughts attacking me became more forceful as I approached. I felt mired in a fog of fragmented images and incoherent words. Never had one person's mind so eclipsed my own.

With the house now in my sights, I began to hear indistinct flickers of Carlisle and Esme. My usual range for their familiar tones crippled by the force of the stranger's mind.

_So much pain……….the poor child………..alone anymore._

_Right thing?...such a waste………….one of us._

As Carlisle's uncertainty washed over me in fractions the realisation of his actions hit me; combined with the rich nectar of the blood was a subtle undertone, the light saccharine tenor of venom.

I walked through the house at an almost human pace, struggling to prepare myself for the reality of what I had seen only glimpses of through their minds. Pushing open the door to Carlisle's study, I froze.

The body of the ravaged and broken girl writhed on the tabletop.

A sudden rush of venom pooled in my mouth as the scene crystallized into stagnant images before me.

The arch of her back as it rose from the table.

Her flaxen hair matted and saturated with blood.

Droplets of crimson clinging to her fingertips, before falling to the floor.

The syrupy sweetness caused a visceral reaction that I could not control, and even though I knew it was tainted, my throat burned for those wasted drops.

"Edward." Carlisle's voice trembled when he called my name, breaking me from my abstraction. "I had to. She was dying."

Through my shock I realised that although his words were a clear statement, Carlisle was actually beseeching me to understand.

I couldn't comprehend his indecision; the turmoil of his thoughts stood in stark contrast to everything I had come to expect of him.

_I couldn't leave her, so broken and in so much pain. Please understand, I did what I thought was best. We are her family now. _

Through his mind I saw the girl as she had been, my lips falling open in a silent gasp.

She was unrecognisable. The battered form before me bore almost no resemblance to the girl she had once been. Her eyes clenched shut as her face contorted in an interminable grimace of pain. Her body mottled in a macabre patchwork of bruising, welts and torn skin.

I recalled what little I had known of her as a human - vain, spoiled and jealous. The timbre of her mind had been self-centred and demanding. Other than her appearance, there seemed to be little redeeming about her.

"What were you thinking, Carlisle? Rosalie Hale?" My voice was harsh and strained, barely a whisper, but I knew he would hear it over her cries.

Suddenly there was silence; in the room and in my head, everything stopped.

We both turned back to Rosalie as she stilled. Her eyes snapped open and latched onto mine with vehemence.

I was trapped like the deer I so frequently hunted, shocked into submission by the level of understanding complicit in her gaze. She had heard me.

Through the torment and the discord of her mind, she had heard, and she had understood.

While her inert body burned, her eyes remained fixed on mine for a timeless instant - clear and bright with an unexpected awareness.

A bright red had begun to seep into the icy blue, a disconcerting combination that I had never seen before.

Finally the effort became too much. Her head snapping back to release another shattering cry, as her body began to thrash anew.

I watched as Esme rushed forward to grasp her hand and smooth back the hair from her brow, knowing the idle gesture provided no comfort. _Such beautiful hair. Such a lovely girl, who could do such a thing? _

The heartbreak etched on Esme's face was almost as painful as the agony on Rosalie's, and I stepped forward unthinkingly to offer her some form of solace when Carlisle's musings halted my movements.

_Maybe it won't have been in vain. Perhaps they could be happy together? He deserves someone too. Fifteen years is too long to be alone. _

As scenes of Rosalie and I together filtered through his mind, they mirrored in mine, and I fled. Unable to bear the incomprehensible pressure of Rosalie's mind around me, unable to block it out, I fled.

Carlisle and Esme's gentle pleas echoed behind me.

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The home I returned to was like another world. The house of horrors filled with screams of pain and brutality was gone. In its stead, was a museum.

With their thoughts eerily quiet, I mistook the house as empty for a moment.

The stillness was unsettling, and although I am used to the motionlessness of our nature, it seemed forced and uncomfortable - like being slowly suffocated.

Her new scent permeated the air, still rich and sweet but heady as well, making me feel light-headed with the thickness.

Esme and Carlisle were balanced on a knife's edge, the tangible tension weighing down heavily on them both. Their minds full of hushed mutterings and hesitancy.

Yet she was silent.

I could sense her consciousness, but her thoughts were like a shout lost in the wind – pulled away from me before I could catch their meaning.

After the painful force of her mind during the transformation, the relief was overwhelming. But I was curious. How was she so silent? Had the suffering she'd sustained irreparably damaged her brain?

Following her scent toward the sitting room, I entered slowly.

Her head rose at the barely audible sound of my footsteps, and our eyes met.

Cool blue replaced by glowing red.

As her eyes widened in slight panic, her mind opened in flashing fragments, just as powerful as before, but like stabbing lights in my head rather than a constant wave. I caught fleeting glimpses of insight, ending with her memory of me during her transformation before her eyes hardened in front of me and her mind became silent once more.

"Edward."

She stated my name simply, as a fact, not a greeting. Her clear, high voice was like birdsong in the small room.

I approached her as cautiously as you would a wild animal despite the fact that she sat perfectly still.

"Yes, Miss Hale. I am Edward Cullen. I'm not sure how much of me you remember, but we did meet once before – well, before."

"Before I died?" Her expression remained impassive, but her tone held unmistakeable contempt. "Yes, I remember."

When she turned her head as though to dismiss me, I took the opportunity to view her properly for the first time since her change.

Rosalie had always been beautiful. Even as a human she had been as beautiful as many of our kind, and although I found her mind off putting, I was always able to appreciate her aesthetic value.

As an immortal, though, her exquisiteness was beyond comparison.

Dressed simply but elegantly in one of Esme's borrowed dresses, she was easily the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The sunlight streaming in through the window landed on her long golden hair, catching the edge of her neck and jaw, creating captivating prisms where it fell on her bare skin.

The rosy tint to her skin I remembered, had been replaced by a smooth expanse of pale white, visible on her long and slender arms.

Even as she sat I could make out her statuesque form beneath her dress; the nipped in waist highlighting her supple curves, the modest length revealing only the beginnings of a shapely ankle and calf crossed demurely beneath her.

Her face was as close to perfection as anything I had ever seen. Only her scarlet eyes were out of place.

Imagining her in the future - as she could be with our warmer topaz eyes - brought Carlisle's visions to my mind once more.

I could not deny to myself that his musings held a certain appeal. I had been alone for some time, and I yearned for companionship. Not to mention that I was physically, after all, still a seventeen-year-old boy, and my body continued to react to women in the way you would expect.

Yet, with my abilities, it seemed impossible for me to be with anyone. The connection to their thoughts and the quality of their minds were not things that I could disregard. Even for a fleeting dalliance - although I had been tempted.

Rosalie was such a temptation. My body held an undeniable attraction to her, but the memory of her grating internal voice was vivid, and I could not bring myself to overlook everything I knew of her for the possibility of a relationship.

I sighed regretfully at the wasted opportunity and the disappointment from both Carlisle and Esme that would surely follow They had such high hopes for us both.

At my low exhalation of breath, Rosalie narrowed her eyes before turning her calculating stare back to me . In a cold, emotionless voice, she broke the brittle silence between us.

"I know what you do, Edward."

Before I had the chance to question her statement, her mind sprang back into focus with a new clarity, assaulting me with chaotic images and hoarsely screamed words.

I flinched as the full force of her thoughts was unleashed, and watched in shock as her face remained composed despite the torrent of emotions flooding from her.

Like the calm surface of the ocean concealing a rip tide, she watched me, her face betraying no sign of interest in my reaction.

It was almost worse than the confusion of her transformation. As she selected these thoughts specifically for me to see, I felt myself wither under the pressure of the horrors she revealed.

_Warm, rancid breaths washing over her face, as fingertips tighten around her neck. _

_The sharp sting of her fingers breaking under a stiff boot heel. _

_Her attempts to scream through rough hands and the taste of her own blood welling up inside her mouth. _

_The cool night air hitting the tops of her thighs as her skirt is ripped from her waist. _

_Tearing, stinging, aching, pounding. _

_Finally, a leering face with empty eyes. Hollow, echoing laughter as fingertips caress her skin almost tenderly._

"_My Rose. Looks like there won't be a wedding after all." _

_In the end there is nothing left but the dark night and the harsh focus of indescribable pain._

Even experienced second hand, a thin recreation of everything she felt, it seemed to last for hours.

Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the revelations were gone.

Her mind snapped closed like a steel trap, leaving me gasping for air I didn't need, fighting off sobs that didn't belong to me.

As the room swam in and out of focus around me, the only thing I could see clearly was Rosalie's face, poised and unconcerned.

But her red eyes burned fiercely with pure hatred.

Backing from the room, I fumbled for something to say. Searching for words that usually came so easily when I always knew what people were thinking. For once I could think of nothing, managing only to stutter out a feeble and ineffectual, "I'm so sorry."

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I avoided Rosalie as best I could for a time. Both in my head and within the house, I kept my distance.

It was obvious that my presence made her uncomfortable. After all that she had been through, I could understand that perfectly.

When we did converse, I made every effort not to pry into her consciousness. I had no desire to hear her thoughts again, whether they were the petty trivialities of her human mind, or the agony she chose to subject me to in her new life.

For her part she maintained the perfect façade of a polite acquaintance.

Slowly but surely Rosalie was developing a level of trust and respect with both Carlisle and Esme. The tension that had been so prevalent during her first weeks with us had dissipated some, and a tentative routine had begun to take shape.

But for all of her etiquette and breeding, Miss Rosalie Hale was still a newborn vampire, and even her faultless manners couldn't help with the bloodlust.

From the sanctuary of my piano upstairs, I could hear every word uttered in the house. Whether whispered in confidence or shouted in anger, it made no difference. Yet having become so used to supplementing my senses with my ability, I was often confused and curious to hear Rosalie's temper fray for seemingly no apparent reason.

On an afternoon like any other, for they all began to seem the same when the days are immeasurable, the smashing of china and Rosalie's indignant shriek disturbed my seclusion.

An uneasy silence followed, and I held my needless breath in anticipation.

Searching futilely for the presence of someone else in the house even though I was certain that both Esme and Carlisle had left for the day, I waited.

She did not disappoint.

The house erupted into a cacophony of destruction. The harsh sounds of splintering wood as furniture was ripped to pieces, the light tinkling of glass shattering and crunching under her footsteps were all coupled with her screams of outrage.

Sighing heavily, I made my way downstairs and paused in the entrance to the sitting room.

Flashes of images began to pulsate out of her, white hot in their intensity as she tore around the room. Practically vibrating with pent up energy, Rose's blond hair streamed behind her as she ravaged Esme's carefully constructed home.

With a final resounding crack, something struck the wall beside my head, splitting the plaster and falling to the floor with a dull thud. Absentmindedly, I noted that it was a pewter ornament, now misshapen and irreparable.

Rosalie stilled in the centre of the room and regarded me with flat black eyes.

"Yes?" Her voice was calm and composed, her breathing level, her clothing pristine - incongruous amongst the disarray of the room around her.

"I just wanted to see the extent of the damage this time." I made a show of looking around the room carefully. "You've really outdone yourself, Rose."

The dull static of her thoughts had returned, and only the small indentation that appeared between her eyebrows gave me any indication that she was displeased.

"I don't see how that is any concern of yours, Edward."

"Well it is. Esme cares about these things, and yet you wilfully destroy them with your childish tantrums. You need to hunt, Rosalie. It's selfish of you not to go when you have such limited control."

"I can't stand it." Her lip curled up with obvious disdain. "It's foul and unnatural."

"It's just blood, Rose. You need it, and you'll get used to the hunt eventually. Soon it will feel like second nature."

"That's the problem." At my quizzical expression, she began to stalk around the room, frustration flowing freely from her. "It already feels like more than second nature. It feels like I was meant to be like this, and I hate it. Something overcomes me. I'm like a feral animal and the worst part, the worst part is that I like it."

Her hands trembled as the words fell from her lips, and suddenly her walls came crashing down. I could hear her thoughts warring inside her mind.

The thirst and the self-loathing fought for dominance within her, threatening to tear her apart.

"Rosalie," I said her name quietly and walked toward her slowly. This time my caution seemed warranted as she paced the small room like a lioness, sleek and powerful. "It's alright. I know it's difficult to come to terms with everything, but you shouldn't make yourself suffer like this. I know how you feel."

Rosalie stopped her pacing to glare at me through narrowed eyes, spitting out her words harshly.

"You know nothing about how I feel."

"Really? Maybe I don't know exactly, but we all go through something similar. I know what it is to take a human life and have it feel like the most natural thing in the world. I know how it feels to be consumed by guilt, and so disgusted by myself that I'm not sure I can go on. Yet know that deep within, I still want it."

I admitted to her what I had never told Carlisle. That although I knew it was wrong, I still wanted to drink human blood. That as much as the blood lust called to me on an instinctual level, a part of me also believed that I was entitled to it.

"This is our nature now, and it is a constant battle. Every day we deny ourselves what feels right, what we need, in the pursuit of something better. I can't even tell you if it will be worth it in the end, but what's the alternative?"

Opening her mind fully, Rosalie let me see what she was afraid to become; the same thing I was afraid to become.

Red eyed, ruthless and tearing at the neck of a defenceless girl. Rosalie imagined herself feeding, savouring the luscious fluid as it dripped down her throat, and relishing the exquisite flavour. The vision made my own throat blaze.

Her eyes opened wide as we stood opposite one another, watching the possibility of our mirrored fates play out before us.

"How do you stand it? Every day I feel my humanity ebbing away. I'm a monster. What happens when I start acting like one?" Rosalie's voice cracked as she whispered the words to me like a secret. Had she been able, tears would have been streaming down her cheeks in this brief moment of weakness.

"You just have to try. It will never be easy, Rosalie. But you can't let it overcome you, and starving yourself will only make it harder."

She straightened herself then, the steely glint returning to her eyes with a new resolve.

"Edward, will you come with me?"

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Watching Rosalie hunt was like nothing I had ever seen before. She was right; it was as if she were made to do this.

I had hunted with both Esme and Carlisle on multiple occasions, but they had never aroused the same reactions in me.

As a newborn, Rosalie was typically fast and strong, almost as fast as I was, probably stronger. Her long tresses whipped through the trees wildly, her feet never seeming to touch the ground as she matched me stride for stride.

When the musky scent of deer drifted into our path, she paused fractionally before leading the way toward them.

I slowed to watch her.

Feline and graceful in her measured footsteps as she approached the clearing, she was silent and dangerous. As her slim neck arched toward it, she caught my eye, her mouth turning up in a slight smile.

It was the first time she had ever smiled at me.

Leaping into the air without a sound, she broke the animal's neck with a hollow snap, the echo causing the birds to take flight from the trees around us.

Her teeth sank effortlessly into its flesh, and as the frenzy overtook her, I heard her.

Through the haze of the bloodlust, her mind was frenetic. Thoughts and images whipped by faster than I could appreciate them. But as the blood entered her system, there was suddenly nothing but the feeling of the warm liquid flowing down her throat and the ecstasy of it's essence passing into hers, her pleasure becoming my own.

Throwing back her head, she dropped the drained carcass to the soft forest floor. A thin trickle of blood traced its path from the corner of her mouth down the graceful curve of her throat, vibrant against the porcelain of her skin.

She turned her dark eyes to me as she lifted her thumb to collect the errant liquid. Raising it to her lips with purpose she savoured the final drops, never removing her gaze from mine.

I could feel the immediate tightness in my trousers as she raised one eyebrow in an indecipherable question.

_Our bodies intertwined as one, moving in unison. Our unneeded breathes coming in shallow pants as our lips pulled apart. _

_The feel of her fingertips moving over my skin, a trail of ice in their wake. _

My gulp was made more obvious by the silence surrounding us, and Rosalie gave me another half smile before disappearing into the undergrowth.

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"How do you do it?" I failed to keep the frustration out of my voice as I broke the tentative silence between us.

Lowering her book, Rosalie turned to me with her impenetrable stare.

"How do I do what, Edward?"

Although we had grown closer over the months that she had been with our family, Rosalie and I were still only tentatively approaching a friendship.

We were too alike to truly enjoy one another's company. Both too mercurial in our temperaments and too stubborn to reach the comfort of idle companionship.

Yet our similarities served to bring us, conversely, closer together and, at the same time, drive a wedge between us.

The curiosity had been slowly driving me mad. I had never encountered anyone who could block me out as successfully as she could, and it seemed to be a barely conscious effort on her part. Although, that could just as easily be her refusal to show anything other than perfect poise.

"You know what, Rosalie," I replied with a sigh. I hated for her to see how aggravated I was. "The distortion in your mind, how do you control it?"

The haughty expression she displayed could always be guaranteed to incense me further, and she knew it.

"It works then? I had wondered, but I didn't want to broach the subject. How does it differ? My distorted mind, as you so eloquently put it." Her tone was still measured, but she had become easier to read over the months, and I could see that she was unimpressed with my description.

"As you well know Rose, I meant no offense. But it is distorted, like a faulty signal from the radio. Except when it isn't, and then it's more overwhelming than anything I've ever heard. How do you do it?"

"Overwhelming?" She looked almost surprised by the sentiment. "Do you mean it can be uncomfortable for you?" At my terse nod, she continued, "I didn't know. You were gone when I awoke. I was terrified and confused, but Esme calmed me as well as she could. She told me about you - you and your ability. She was vague with the details, but I thought I understood it."

I was hanging off her every word, paying her more attention than I had anyone in decades. It was strange for me, having to rely on the words she chose to spoke, rather than filtering through her actual thoughts at my leisure.

"It disturbed me, that you might know things I wished to remain private. So I focused on keeping myself closed off. It seemed a logical step. I have been masking my emotions for years. How different could my thoughts be? I had no idea if it was working or not."

She lifted her shoulders just barely, questioning the validity of her actions.

"It works. More successfully than anything I have encountered. But sometimes, things slip through. It is forceful." I gave her a wry smile, I didn't want her to know the full extent of the stifling nature of those slip ups.

"I'm sure. It is not without difficulty for me, but I can be – determined - when I need to be." A brief snort escaped me despite my attempts to contain it, and Rosalie's eyes flashed irritation.

"I can imagine." I hesitated before speaking again, "You are not what I expected, Rosalie."

"Of course I'm not. How could I be after everything that has happened?" she questioned but did not give me the opportunity to respond. "You thought you knew me after one glimpse into my mind at a frivolous party. You judged me based on insignificant thoughts at an insignificant moment in my life. I am not that girl anymore. In fact, I doubt I ever was."

My manners told me that I should apologize for my prejudices, but there was something about Rosalie that just made me obdurately refuse to admit my errors to her.

Images of her fiancé, King, and the night of her attack mingled through her mind along side memories of a baby boy and his young mother. Her simmering rage tinged with hints of longing.

It was often images of Royce that were revealed during her lapses in focus. She seemed to feed off of the anger that infected her during these memories, using them to strengthen her resolve for this life.

But this time, the visions changed. Her overly detailed human memories were replaced with fevered imaginings of her own creation.

_Towering over his prone form, his eyes were wide and terrified as they took in the impossible sight before him._

"_It can't be. You're, you're, we –" His mumbled words incoherent with fear. _

"_I came back for you, Royce. To give you everything you deserve." Her voice was soft and melodic as she smiled down at him. _

"_But, we." He stopped with a loud gulp, the dryness of his throat causing the raw swallow to sound loudly in her ears, hearing more than she ever had before. "What are you?"_

_Her face transformed from a sweet smile into a furious mask, her beauty becoming incandescent in her rage. _

"_I'm what you made me, Royce. I'm a monster." _

_His screams drowned out everything else as she succumbed to her desires. His life leaving his body an inch at a time as she savoured his agony._

Looking back at her, I was surprised to see a serene smile gracing her countenance, her eyes dancing with possibilities.

I felt her excitement washing over me, her anger a seductive caress in my mind.

"Can you imagine how good that would feel, Edward?"

With the miasma of her alluring anger infecting my logic, I reached for her without thinking.

I saw her eyes widen as she noticed my touch, and it faintly occurred to me that it was the first time I had touched her. Just as I was engulfed, drowning in the force of her anger and fear, unable to move or speak under the weight of her thoughts, I noticed that her skin was divine in its silken texture.

Before she wrenched her arm out of my grasp, she met my eyes, and in the matte blackness, I was sure I could see some pity underneath the festering rage.

"I'm sorry." Her words were so quiet and unsure as she took a step away from me that I blinked in confusion.

"No. I should be apologizing to you, Rosalie. I should never have touched you like that. It was inappropriate and insensitive of me."

"It's fine, Edward. I'm not a china doll. In fact, I'm practically indestructible, so you shouldn't concern yourself with that." Her clear, unwavering voice had returned as she faced me, the defiance back in her eyes. "I hate what I have become. I even hated Carlisle for making me this way, even though he was only trying to help. But most of all I was afraid. I'm not afraid anymore. I've made my decision. They should fear me."

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I said nothing as her visions became more frequent, the lapses in her mental safeguard less sporadic as she began to trust me.

The impulse to mention her disturbing thoughts to Carlisle, so strong at first, had waned almost completely.

Having little experience of any kind of debauchery, I had no comparison for the high I felt at her cerebral outbursts. It was intoxicating, the only thing I had felt that could come close to the euphoria of human blood.

As she fuelled herself with the visions of torture and richly deserved revenge, I found myself becoming addicted to the spark of adrenaline they set off within my body.

So I said nothing as the visions grew in intensity.

I said nothing as they solidified into a plan in her mind.

I said nothing when the time came to execute that plan.

I revelled in her vengeance. Basking in the sense of peace and power that exuded from her after that act, feeding off of her righteous indignation like the parasite I was.

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"_No, no, no, no, no."_

The mantra repeated like a desperate prayer in my head, and I stopped immediately, as Rosalie ran straight past me in my sudden inaction.

"_I just want to go home. I want my mom. It hurts."_

The last thought caused me to still completely, focusing intently on the hysterical mind in the distance, as Rosalie came back to my side, huffing in impatience.

"Edward? What are you doing?"

_The girl's eyes squeezed shut tightly, trying to block out the sights and sounds around her. Desperately trying to escape into her own mind and away from the coarse fingertips stroking her cheek, the unsettling weight of a much larger body holding her against the ground._

I listened carefully, testing the air for their scents, trying to find their location.

"Edward? Seriously, what are you –"

"Shut up, Rose," I ordered impatiently. She opened her mouth to respond, but her head whipped to the side suddenly, her nostrils flaring.

"There are humans over the ridge." She sounded confused. We had never stumbled upon humans this deep into the forest.

"I know. There's a young girl; her mind is terrified." Rosalie's eyes narrowed at my words just as I picked up on a second stream on consciousness.

_So young and pretty. Just perfect. Look at that skin, so pale and soft, it'll bruise perfectly. I can't wait to leave my mark on her. She'll never forget me. So quiet, I'll make her scream soon enough. _

Venom pooled in my mouth as I fully comprehended his vile thoughts and intended deeds.

"He's going to hurt her," I hissed sharply through my teeth at the instantaneous anger that bubbled up inside me, supplemented by Rosalie's outrage pulsating through my mind. She needed no further explanation.

I was moving through the woodland before I consciously made the decision - tearing through the undergrowth in my haste, ripping out and discarding trees and bushes in my wake.

Rosalie followed swiftly behind me; I could feel the ire radiating from her very being.

I tore into the small clearing without a moment's hesitation. The unexceptional man leering over the girl remained unaware of my presence until I jerked him off of her prostrate body.

Lifting him into the air by my resolute grasp on his throat, I turned to the girl on the ground, her eyes still screwed shut in terror. Plucking her name from the thoughts swirling around her internal sanctuary, I spoke as softly as I could.

"Run home, Sarah." Her head shook back and forth frantically as though she hadn't heard me, while she whispered hoarsely under her breath.

"No, no, no, no, no. I don't want it."

"Sarah, you're safe now. Go home." As her eyes opened gradually she became even more alarmed. My presence loomed over her imposingly, dangling her previous captor high above her. She finally sucked in a deep breath, her intentions obvious.

Before she could scream, Rosalie was by her side, whispering soothingly in her ear.

"It's alright, Sarah. We're here to help you. Run home to your mother. Everything will be okay." She spoke more affectionately than I had ever heard her as she rubbed the girl's back, her desire for the girl's blood dampened by her maternal instincts.

"Are, are you an angel?" The girl looked up at Rosalie in astonishment, her mind broadcasting her awe at the vision in front of her. Rosalie's laughter was soft and light.

"Today I am."

The girl rose to her feet shakily and ran as quickly as she could away from the scene. Rosalie backed slowly into the shade of the trees, watching me from a distance as my attention turned back to the filth in my grip.

His legs kicked out, and his nails scratched at my fingers in a futile attempt to break my grasp. Under the pad of my thumb, I could feel the blood rushing through his veins - warm and enticing.

"Please. Please. Let me go." His voice rasping against the pressure on his vocal chords, his eyes pleaded with me to let him go, and his mind screaming.

"_Oh God. Oh God. Please let me go. I don't want to die. Let me go, please. I'll never hurt another girl again. I'll be good, I promise."_

As images of other girls barely out of childhood flitted through his mind, I growled uncontrollably. My throat burned at the quickening of his pulse, and I considered how easy it would be to kill him here, to drain him of his unworthy life.

Almost as if she could read _my_ mind, Rosalie's soft voice drifted to me.

"Do it, Edward."

I shook my head infinitesimally, knowing she would see me clearly. Rather than answering me, she spoke to me in her mind.

"_You know how good it will feel, Edward. He deserves it; he's a fiend_. _Just let go."_

Through her thoughts I saw what could happen.

_My fingers puncture his throat as his screams die out. Lifting his flaccid body to my lips, I drink deeply, the sweet nectar flowing down my aching throat, quenching the constant burn for the first time in years. _

"_You could do this, Edward. You would be helping people, ridding the world of vermin like him. Don't you want it?"_

An anguished groan sounded through the silence. It took me a moment to realise that I had been the one to make it.

I looked up at the man once more, his dirty hands scrabbling desperately at my fingertips, lips pulling back to show his yellowing teeth, the focus in his non-descript eyes becoming more distant with my constant pressure.

My arm shook as I held his body aloft. Not with fatigue, but with the strain of feeling his blood pumping underneath my hand, my fingernails perilously close to his jugular.

I could feel my resolve slipping. My decision practically made as the burn for his blood became almost unbearable.

_His hands traced harshly over a small girl's body, pinching and bruising her delicate skin. Her eyes deadened with her fear. She looked unseeingly past him as he lowered himself onto her. _

I could no longer tell whose mind the thoughts were coming from. Whether these were genuine recollections or Rosalie's ugly imaginings; it no longer mattered. All that mattered was the tempting liquid so close to me. Its scent surpassing everything else.

As I lowered his neck to my mouth, everything seemed to slow down. His skin felt agonizingly soft under my lips, and I left them there almost tenderly upon his flesh, savouring the excruciating anticipation.

He didn't make a sound as my teeth punctured him, the silence almost deafening as his life force began to seep into my mouth.

Rosalie's moan was low and sultry from across the clearing, wanton with desire, and it snapped my self-control completely.

I was suddenly ravenous with thirst, and feral groans formed deep within my chest at the instant gratification of the blood slipping down my throat.

The euphoria completely eclipsed any memory I had of human blood. I failed to remember why I had been denying myself this. What could possibly be more important than this.

In the concentration of the blood lust, I vaguely registered Rosalie's approach and opened my eyes as I drained him completely.

She stood before me, chest heaving with panted breaths she didn't need, her eyes black with thirst and lust.

The empty body dropped from my fingertips, discarded in its uselessness as she stepped toward me slowly.

Without my permission, a low rumbling began in my chest, developing into a growl when her fingertips lightly ran up my arms. Her eyes focused intently on my lips, her pink tongue reached out to wet her own before she leaned in closer.

With her breath cool and sweet on my skin, she paused for a fraction of a second, her eyes flickering to mine before she finally touched me.

Sparks of cool electricity followed in her wake as she licked a languid trail up my jaw to my lips, the faint trickle the only human blood she would ever taste. Kissing me softly, her lips seemed to mould perfectly to my own.

The affection of her touch broke me out of my blood lust as I realised I was experiencing my first kiss.

I moved my lips cautiously against her, relishing the exquisite taste and texture that was Rosalie. Gasping into her mouth when it opened to accept me, my tongue swept across her bottom lip before tentatively meeting hers.

I pulled back to meet her eyes, feeling more breathless and light-headed than ever before.

Her gaze was unfaltering as usual, while she waited for me, for my decision.

The back of her hand caressed my cheek softly.

"I need you, Edward." I blinked at her words, so unexpected. Rosalie never seemed to need anything from me. "I need you to help me feel something good. To show me there's more than this. More than pain and darkness for the rest for the rest of our days."

Her words struck a chord within me as I realized what I had become. For the first time in my existence I had killed a human, not out of desperation or thirst, but through choice.

I was suddenly unsure of everything I knew. Could I continue on in this life knowing the alternative? Would Carlisle and Esme even want me back when they saw the crimson of my eyes and the inherent truths they revealed?

Rosalie's eyes were clear and bright as she gazed at me and I decided. I decided that I wanted to feel something good too. I wanted to feel her.

Reaching for her with more confidence than I felt, I pulled her toward me, crushing my lips to hers as an entirely new wave of desire crashed over me.

She responded fervently, her hands rising to thread through my hair, pulling it almost painfully in her fists. But the sharp pull was the most sensation I had felt in decades, and I gasped at the immediate pleasure, shocked at the instantaneous hardness of my penis

My hands circled Rosalie's waist almost feverishly, flitting around her curves, desperate to feel something other than the fabric under my fingertips.

Again, it was almost as if she could read my mind as she ran her hand up under my shirt, the contact on my stomach causing my muscles to contract and shudder under her touch.

Her breaths came in stilted stutters against my mouth before she pulled back with a devious smirk.

Before I could question her movements, she ripped the shirt from my body, the remaining tatters floating to the ground. Quirking an eyebrow, she seemed to be silently challenging me.

It was not how I had always imagined this would happen when I was human. Images of a shy girl giving herself to me in a moment of love on our wedding night had formed the majority of those daydreams. The night would be full of tenderness and exploration as we discovered each other for the first time.

But in the years of my isolation since my change, I had come to accept the implausibility of these desires. I could never be with a human, and we knew few others of our kind, until Rosalie.

Her eyes raked over my body, and I wondered if she had thought about this moment before, if she had imagined what it would be like to be with a man. Her only experiences had been brutal and terrifying, and yet, she looked at me with an intense hunger.

The sunlight glinted off my skin, casting prisms of light; and for the first time, I didn't want to hide away from the effect. Rosalie was the same as me: damaged, confused and lonely. She understood.

As if she could sense my hesitation, Rosalie quickly closed the gap between us throwing her body against mine.

She was not warm, yielding and unsure as the girl I always imagined had been.

Her body was as unbreakable as mine,

I needed no further encouragement to rip her dress to pieces, revealing expanses of smooth, flawless skin that outshone anything I had ever seen inside the minds of others. The weak sunlight filtering through the trees highlighting the crystalline sparkle of her skin as it moved in undulating ripples over her body.

We both needed this, but Rosalie's desperation overpowered my own. She needed to control this moment, this memory we were creating in order to overshadow her past.

So she took me - fierce and beautiful in our sylvan sanctuary.

It was not soft and tender, but raw and hot with our need. Our bodies moving together as we had both imagined, intense and unyielding. We crashed through the forest, splitting trees with aching groans, losing ourselves to the sensations overtaking us.

As we climbed higher together her walls finally fell down and I saw myself through her thoughts – impossibly young and beautiful, righteous in my purity and untainted innocence.

In her mind I was everything she used to be: unsoiled, perfect, and arrogant in my position.

As her movements became more frantic, she set her golden eyes on mine and lifted one corner of her mouth in satisfaction as she allowed herself to relive a single moment.

_The scent of blood rich in the air, the body dropped to the ground, forgotten, as her eye's travel over my body. Her body thrums in excitement and anticipation as her gaze travels hungrily up toward my mouth, open in a snarling gasp, a single drop of blood clinging to the chiselled line of my jaw. _

In her memory, I am monstrous and deadly but completely in her thrall as she approaches.

_Her throat burns with the scent of the spilled blood, and her body aches with another kind of need, unexpected but almost as powerful. Without thinking she reaches out to taste the liquid – my skin is smooth and flawless under her tongue. The combined taste of my flesh and the never tasted blood fills her with an uncontrollable surge of pleasure. _

The memory was vivid and potent. Her recalled pleasure became my own as we both fell over the edge, our cries echoing out into the stillness around us. I could almost taste the exquisite flavour on my tongue.

My limbs weakened for the first time in years and my mind was blissfully light; I felt sated. The sensation was incredible – I felt alive again.

Rosalie's voice, sweetly melodic and beautiful, as always, tore into my tranquillity with one sentence. "Your eyes are as red as mine now."

That same smile of satisfaction flitted around her lips as she regarded me, yet I felt nauseous and immobile under the consequences of my actions.

The gravity of our deeds overwhelmed me. I had forsaken all of my ideals in a moment of weakness, and the guilt struck me in sharp pangs. Yet Rosalie's eyes danced with some untold amusement as she watched me. For the first time she displayed some measure of happiness, and I had given that to her.

"I can't go back." With a small shake of her head, Rosalie confirmed my worst fears; I had failed my family and succumbed to my basest instincts.

But I couldn't bring myself to feel fully ashamed of my conduct. This felt right – I felt right, more powerful and aware than ever before. As though I had become the optimum version of myself; the idea was seductive and addictive. The mere thought of animal blood filled me with contempt.

Why should I? Why should I subject myself to anything less than I deserved? Justifying the decision was simpler than I could have ever hoped – Rosalie's thoughts filtered back to me from the moment I felt my resolve snap.

"_You could do this, Edward. You would be helping people, ridding the world of vermin like him. Don't you want it?"_

"I can do this, Rosalie." At my sudden decisive tone, her eyes snapped up to mine – her confusion clear at the certainty they met. "You were right. I would be doing a service getting rid of people like him."

Her gaze narrowed, but her thoughts were back to the familiar dull static, scratching at the edges of my consciousness.

"We could do this, together." I astonished myself with my boldness, but it felt true. We _could_ do this together. We could be good together. Eyes widening at my offer, she looked at me with shock.

I waited for that glimmer of exhilaration to resurface in her eyes. If she would just agree to this life with me, I might be able to rise above this tumult and salvage something of my existence. I wouldn't be with my family, but perhaps we could create something else, something that could sustain us both throughout our eternities.

"Why would I want that?" Her simple question told me so much more than it needed to. The disgust in her voice cut through me with more ease than any vampire's teeth ever could. The blank impassive mask had returned, her beauty a constant shield for her inner turmoil. "I wouldn't sully myself with their foul blood. I would rather starve for the rest of eternity than drink from the likes of him."

If it were possible, the wind would have been knocked out of me with the force of her contempt. But her next words showed her for the true contradiction she was. "You're right though. You can't come back now. They would be so disappointed with you – maybe it would be better if you stayed away for a while. Until your control is better managed."

In that moment I saw her contentment for what it truly was – ascendancy.

She showed me images of what my future could be: taunting me with the possibility of endless blood to quench my thirst without the accompanying guilt. My throat burned anew with the temptation, fighting with the anguish of what I would lose if I followed this path.

I was no longer the perpetually innocent, impossibly young boy of her perceptions, the black stain tarnishing the fragile remnants of my soul threatened to submerge me.

Splinters of pain lanced through my being at my sudden insight: she meant for this to happen.

Powerless to understand why this was happening, my insufferably lucid mind failing me for the first time. I was unable to move or speak under the significance of her duplicity.

Standing gracefully to look down at me as I knelt helplessly in the dirt, Rosalie touched my cheek lightly and whispered, "I'll tell them good bye from you," and I could only watch her disappear into the undergrowth, with fluidity matched only by my own, while I remained ensnared in my torment.

888888888888888

It was seven years before I returned to my family for good. The prodigal son.

The intervening years of my solitude were an ideal breeding ground for my bitterness and self-loathing. I had hoped that the acceptance of my family would help to temper the sharp twinges of my guilt. But I was unprepared for what awaited me.

Emmett had joined the family during my absence, and Rosalie was mated, content, and happier than I had ever thought she could be. Forced to call her sister, I fought daily to contain my rage at the injustice of the situation – she had taken everything from me, and she didn't deserve the joy she found in his embrace or the unfailing acceptance of _my_ family.

She was every bit the monster I was, barely concealed under her angelic countenance, yet I was impotent to change anything. Only she knew the depth of my depravity and I hers, and we relied on that mutual need for secrecy as the years passed us by.

Her thoughts remain difficult to decipher, but occasionally I can see her clearly. Although I still find it painful to wade through the shallows of her mind, I am compelled to see. It's been over seventy years, but to my knowledge, she has never thought about that day in the forest, never relived her part in my destruction.

To this day, she has kept my secret and I hers.

**A/N So, this was my first contest entry, first time writing anything AU/Canon**_**ish **_**and from EPOV, kind of jumped right in there. **

**Thanks so much to the awesome beta Savage Woman for looking at this when I decided, really late in the day, that I wanted to enter. Also to Coreen Montagna for pre-reading for me. **

**Go check out PTB, they have a fancy new website and they set you up with amazing people who'll help you no matter how crappy your comma usage is! Thanks!**

**https:/sites(dot)google(dot)com/site/projectteambeta1/home**


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